


(You Are) Wanted

by Potrix



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Developing Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Kid Fic, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Racist Language, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-13 06:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: It’s Tango, of course, who asks the question. “Is that a baby?”“Uh.” Will’s still resolutely looking at the baby, not at anyone else, wiping some of the tears away from the baby's cheek while it sniffles quietly. “Yeah, it’s a baby. He, uh. He’s mine.”There’s a crash, and when Will glances up, Nursey’s standing in the kitchen doorway, mouth open, shards from a broken plate on the floor around his feet. “What the fuck, Dex?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Considring all the shit currently happening over on tumblr, I've decided to finally move all my fics and drabbles over to AO3. For now, until someone decides my fandom ramblings are too explicit to be shared on that dumpster of a website, my blog can be found [here](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/), and [this](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/tagged/wantedverse) is the tag for this story. 
> 
> I obviously have no idea how adoption (in the U.S.) works, and neither have I gone to college (in the U.S.), so just take this story for the cute, slightly angsty getting together fic it is.

“Sorry,” Will says, sheepish, as he pulls his ringing phone out of his pocket. He rolls his eyes when Holster points at him, grins triumphantly, and yells, “Fine! No phones during team lunch, dude!”

Will’s about to reject the call, but hesitates when he sees his sister’s name flash across the screen, thumb hovering indecisively. She hadn’t taken anyone’s side during The Incident, at least not officially, but she’d unfriended him on Facebook soon after like most of his family, and hadn’t sought any contact since. Will had taken it as the hint it was meant to be.

“Dex?” Bitty asks softly, looking concerned when Will glances up at him. “Is everything okay?”

“I—” Will starts, then shrugs, biting his bottom lip. “I don’t know. It’s my sister. I, uh. I should probably take this. Sorry.”

Bitty nods, and smiles reassuringly, patting Will’s arm. “Of course, honey. And no fines,” he adds, directed at Ransom and Holster.

Will hears them argue—"No exceptions, Bits!“ is countered with, “No dessert for you, then."—as he quickly walks out onto the porch, but he knows Bitty won’t budge. Bitty’s the only one who knows about The Incident, and only because he’d walked in on Will during one of the few times Will had actually allowed himself to cry. Will, to his absolute mortification, had broken down completely, sobbing and stuttering through telling the story, while Bitty’d sat with him, stroked his hair, and rubbed his back.

He’s glad, at least in hindsight, that Bitty’d found him, because Bitty, more than anyone else Will knows, understands what it’s like. He’s got Jack, sure, and the support of the team, his friends, but his family doesn’t know. And, as shitty as their respective situations are, it’s a relief to have someone who can relate, who gets how much it can suck, at times.

Once he’s closed the door behind himself, and made sure no one who could overhear him is around, Will finally answers the call with a tentative, "Hello?” All he hears over the line is laboured breathing, then a wet, shaky breath. “Maddie? Are you there?”

It takes another moment, but then Maddie whispers, almost too quiet to hear, _“Billy. I need your help.”_

* * *

The drive takes nearly four hours, but Will’s glad for the opportunity to process. Not that it works, but still.

He’d left in a hurry, with only a brief explanation to a wide eyed Bitty—who’d promised to arrange some supplies, like the amazing person he is—and a quick detour to his dorm to pack an overnight bag. And now here he is, in the hospital parking lot, freaking the fuck out.

He has no idea how he’s supposed to do this, or if doing it is the right thing. It feels like it, to him, but Will’s never really been able to tell when it comes to his family. He tightens his hands around the steering wheel, drops his head against it, and tries to breathe deeply, in and out, slow and steady.

“Think it through, break it down,” he tells himself firmly. “C’mon, man.”

Samwell has special housing for students in his situation, he knows as much from a girl in his Econ class. Will probably qualifies for that now. Hopefully. If not, he might be able to get one of the small on-campus apartments; he’s a legal adult, he’s got a part time job, good grades, and his share of their grandparents’ inheritance. All that has to count for something. Right?

It’s not going to be easy. It’s going to be fucking hard. But pretty much everything has been, ever since The Incident this past summer. What’s some more work and responsibility piled on top of everything else at this point?

“Fuck,” Will says, with feeling, and thumps his head against the wheel a couple of times.

But then he straightens up, takes another steadying breath, and gets out of the car.

* * *

A nurse leads the way through the maze of hospital corridors, chattering happily while Will does his best to not melt into a puddle of nerves right there on the hideously lime green linoleum floor. They stop in front of a door that looks exactly like every other on that floor, and the nurse gives it a soft knock, before pushing it open with a cheerful, “Ms Poindexter? Your brother is here. How are you feeling tonight?”

Will hovers uncertainly just inside the room, watching as the nurse checks Maddie over. She looks exhausted—dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, ghostly pale, hair a tangled mess—but, Will supposes, that’s to be expected, considering. She smiles tiredly at the nurse, but it fades slowly when she finally looks at Will, replaced by something Will doesn’t want to analyse too closely.

Her voice trembles when she says, “Billy.”

“Mads,” Will says, and moves closer, taking the hand she’s holding out towards him. “How are you doing?”

“Been better,” Maddie says, and Will manages a weak chuckle. “What about you? How have you been?”

Will shrugs. They both know he hasn’t been fine. If she’d wanted to know more, she could have called earlier.

“Okay,” Maddie sighs, nodding, mostly to herself. “Okay. I know I’ve—I know, Billy. I—thanks for coming.”

“You knew I would.” Will looks down at their clasped hands. “That’s why you called me.”

“Well, now,” the nurse cuts in, clearly aware of the tension, her smile just a little too wide. “There’s someone else who wants to say hi. He’s just woken up, and he’s due for a change, but a few more moments won’t hurt, if you want to hold him first.”

Will’s nodding before she’s even finished talking, letting go of Maddie’s hand to take the wiggling bundle from the nurse. “Thanks,” he says absently, eyes fixed on the tiny, scrunched-up face of his nephew. Belatedly, he adds, “And I can do it. The changing. Uh, if that’s allowed?”

“Of course.” The nurse leads him to the changing table in the corner, then gestures at one of the closets. “Diapers and everything else you’ll need are over here, and we have a few changes of clothes ready if you need them. This has come as somewhat of a surprise, from what I understand?”

Will huffs out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

The nurse takes her leave after some more instructions, and reassuring Will that she’s only the press of a button away in case he needs her. It’s been a while since Will’s changed a diaper, but he gets it done, and no one’s crying by the end of it, so he decides to count it as a success. He dresses the baby, very carefully, scared the entire time that he’ll hurt him somehow, then picks him up, and settles him against his shoulder, making sure to support the head.

“Hi there,” he whispers, gently stroking one finger over the baby’s chubby little cheek. “I’m your uncle Will. You’re going to be staying with me for a while.” The baby yawns. It’s really fucking cute. “Yeah, I feel you, buddy.”

“You’re good with him.”

“You could be, too.” Will glances over at Maddie, who’s shaking her head, mouth pressed into a thin line. Will doesn’t push. Instead, he asks, “What’s his name?”

Maddie points to the bedside table. “The papers are over there. You’ll have to fill them out before you leave. You’ll get the official birth certificate in a couple of weeks, I think, along with everything from the lawyer. The fa—Andrew and I have signed everything to so you can take him with you tonight, don’t worry, I—”

“You didn’t even fucking name him?” Will hisses, then immediately feels bad when the baby makes an unhappy noise against his neck. “Sorry, buddy. I’m sorry.” He glares at Maddie as he walks over, shifting the baby so he can sit down, holding him in one arm, and rifles through the papers with his free hand. “Unbelievable. He’s your kid.”

“I didn’t plan this,” Maddie says, sounding annoyed. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Ever heard of condoms?” Will asks snidely, without looking up. “People who don’t want kids usually use those.”

They don’t talk again until Will’s done going through the forms. He leans back in his chair, lifting the now sleeping baby to lie against his chest. His lips are parted slightly, hands curled loosely against Will’s shirt. A few dark curls have fallen over his forehead, and Will gently tucks them back under his hat, then lets his hand linger, cupping the back of his small head.

Maddie’s the one to finally break the uncomfortable silence. “Look, I—you know how mom and dad are—”

Will snorts at that, and looks up so Maddie can see him roll his eyes. “Yeah, Mads, trust me; I know.”

“I thought about, you know. Ending the pregnancy.” She’s fiddling with her blanket, and chewing her lower lip, frowning down at her feet. “But I couldn’t do it, it didn’t seem right.”

“So, what?” Will shakes his head, and has to laugh, but it’s a little mean, without humour. “You thought, hey, everyone hates Billy already, no big deal, I’ll just have him take care of my mistake, pretend nothing ever happened?”

“Mom and dad,” Maddie starts petulantly, but Will interrupts before she can say more.

“For fuck’s sake, Maddie. You’re twenty-one years old, mom and dad don’t control your life. You did this. You. And now you can’t even own up to it?”

Maddie glares at him. “Just because you’ve had some big, gay epiphany—”

“Oh my god, are you serious right now?”

“—and decided to spit on everything our family believes in, on everything mom and dad have done for us—”

“Do you even hear yourself? No, really, can you hear the words that are coming out of your mouth?”

“—doesn’t mean I have to do the same! I won’t! It’s become blatantly obvious that you don’t care about our family, but I do. I won’t hurt them like this, Billy, I won’t. Not after what you’ve already put them through.”

Will opens his mouth, ready to keep arguing, but then closes it again, because what’s the point? He’d known coming out to his parents wouldn’t go over well, and he knows they wouldn’t be any happier about their unmarried, supposed to be virginal daughter bringing home a half-black baby instead of a college degree. Will had decided to do it anyway, for his own sanity and peace of mind, but Maddie’s right about one thing, at least; he can’t force her to do the same.

Definitely can’t make her see that she’s talking complete bullshit, either.

“Our parents, they’re not good people,” he says instead, standing. “I know that’s not how you see them, and I know they’ve probably said worse about me since I’ve been gone, but it’s the truth. I hope you’ll be able to see it one day, for your own sake.” He shifts the baby into a more comfortable position, and kisses the side of his head, almost challengingly, looking Maddie in the eyes as he does it. “Now call the nurse. I’m leaving.”

* * *

The guy sitting behind the motel reception desk doesn’t look thrilled when Will turns up with a baby, but Will’s all out of fucks to give for the day. He’s not going to drive home while he’s raw and on edge like this, especially not with a baby—his new baby, Jesus fucking Christ, in the backseat.

He takes a quick shower once he gets to the room, hurrying through it, not sure how long he can leave the baby by himself. The baby’s still sleeping peacefully in his car seat when Will steps out of the bathroom, though, and stays that way all through Will dressing in a pair of sweats, texting Bitty with an update, and half an episode of some random TV show with the volume turned down. And then he falls right back asleep again after Will’s changed and fed him.

“Huh.” Will watches the baby sleep next to him on the bed for a couple of minutes, convinced he’ll start wailing any minute now. Which he doesn’t.

He does wake Will up twice during the night, crying unhappily, but he’s quick to calm down after another bottle the first time, and a fresh diaper the second. He seems content to be lying on Will’s chest, and Will’s pretty sure he read something about newborns and skin contact once, so he leaves him there, only mildly terrified that he’ll roll over and squash him in his sleep.

* * *

They survive the night without any accidents, and are on the road a little after seven the next morning. Will has to stop three times for feedings and poop related incidents, but the roads are mostly empty so early on a Sunday, and they make good time, arriving back at Samwell just before one.

“Okay, so.” Will’s parked in front of the Haus, turned around in his seat to talk to the baby. “We’re staying with Bitty for tonight, because I’m pretty sure my roommate would murder me if I brought you back to our dorm. Then we’ll go talk to my student advisor tomorrow, see about an apartment, babysitting options, all that stuff.” The baby blinks. “Right. Okay. Here we go.”

As feared, everyone’s there when Will walks into the Haus. Holster’s yelling questions the instant he hears Will, Ransom yells at him to stop yelling from the living room, then Lardo yells at them to cut it out, and Chowder follows that by yelling from his room, wanting to know what’s going on.

The baby bursts into tears. Will seriously thinks about doing the same.

And then suddenly Bitty’s there, with a soft smile, holding out his hand for the diaper bag packed by the nurse back at the hospital. “Here, hon, let me take that.”

Will smiles gratefully, and busies himself with unbuckling the baby while everyone gathers in the hall, staring at him with varying degrees of confusion. Will’s kind of relieved to have the baby to hold onto, rocking him and making quiet shushing noises, lips pressed against his head, instead of meeting anyone’s eyes.

It’s Tango, of course, who asks the question, once the baby’s calmed down somewhat. “Is that a baby?”

“Uh.” Will’s still resolutely looking at the baby, not at anyone else, wiping some of the tears away from his cheek while he sniffles quietly. “Yeah, it’s a baby. He, uh. He’s mine.”

There’s a crash, and when Will glances up, Nursey’s standing in the kitchen doorway, mouth open, shards from a broken plate on the floor around his feet. “What the fuck, Dex?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Nursey!” Chowder gasps, looking scandalised. “Not in front of the baby!”

It’s a nice sentiment, and so very Chowder that Will can’t help but smile fondly, but it’s probably a lost cause, anyway. No matter where Will and the baby will end up living, pretty much his entire circle of friends consists of hockey players who regularly fund Bitty’s baking adventures with their swearing.

And Will really isn’t any better himself, either.

“I don’t think he understands just yet,” he points out, and turns a little when Chowder approaches so Chowder can see the baby’s blotchy red face. “He’s under a week old. All he does is sleep, cry, and shit himself.”

Yeah, so much for that. Oops.

“He’s so cute,” Chowder coos softly, and strokes a gentle finger over the baby’s hair. “Can I hold him?”

Will has no idea what his face is doing, but it must be telling. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Chowder—there are very few people he trusts more, in fact—but the thought of handing the baby over just doesn’t sit right with him, for some reason. It’s stupid, he’s aware of that, but he just—he doesn’t want to let him go. Not just yet.

“Maybe later,” Chowder says, easy as that, and smiles at Will’s apologetic look. He gives Will’s shoulder a supportive squeeze before stepping back. “It’s probably better that way, right? Like, he only stopped crying a second ago, I don’t want to upset him again.”

Will nudges his foot against Chowder’s, murmuring a quiet, relieved, “Thanks, C.”

Ransom, in the meantime, has apparently recovered from his initial shock. Or enough so, at least, to say, “Congrats, man. Your kid’s adorable.”

“Must be the mom’s genes,” Holster teases, on automatic. Then he frowns, clearly not sure what’s off limits when it comes to the baby.

Will isn’t either, but the chirping is normal, familiar. And he can definitely do with some normality right about now.

Bitty’s mouth twists at the mention of the mother. Will shoots him a look he hopes is enough to convey that they’ll talk about it later, in private. He has zero desire to explain his fucked up family situation right now, and he is nowhere near ready to tell everyone why he isn’t on speaking terms with them anymore.

“There isn’t a mom,” Will says, and then, when Tango makes a confused noise and opens his mouth, he corrects, “There isn’t one willing to be a part of his life. It’s just me.”

“That sucks, bro,” Holster says, and Ransom winces in sympathy. “Maybe she’ll come around?”

Will snorts. “Fat chance.”

It comes out hissed, more bitter than he intended, and makes everyone fall uncomfortably silent. Ransom and Holster turn towards each other, doing their weird eyebrow communication thing, probably trying to figure out all the things Will isn’t telling them, while Lardo watches Will intently, in that way that never fails to make Will feel like she knows more than she lets on. Chowder goes to help Nursey pick up the plate shards, with Bitty hovering close by, ready to jump in in case one of them—meaning Nursey—manages to hurt themselves.

Tango still has a somewhat perplexed expression on his face, but Will can never really tell when he actually has no idea what’s going on, and when it’s just his regular face. Or if he’s really just fucking with them all. Whiskey’s the one who makes an effort to actually meet Will’s eyes, one eyebrow raised in question. He’s the only one, apart from Bitty, who’s found out about Will, but they’ve so far had an unspoken agreement to not talk about running into each other in one of the close-by gay bars on occasion. He jerks his chin minutely when Will shakes his head at him, before giving Tango a not so gentle push towards the door, muttering at him in rapid Spanish when Tango starts complaining about being manhandled.

“Uh.” Will hitches the baby a little higher, and starts rubbing his back, mostly to have something to do with his hands. Good thing the baby’s too young to realise he’s being used as a security blanket. “I’ll just,” he says, awkward, inching closer to the stairs. “Yeah.”

With that, Will makes his escape upstairs to Bitty’s room. As promised, there’s a portable crib leaning against one wall, and at least a dozen bags from Babies-R-Us sitting next to it. They look like they definitely contain more than the few emergency diapers and onesies Will’d asked for, and he makes a mental note to send Jack a thank you text later.

“Okay, buddy, here you go,” Will tells the baby as he carefully places him in the middle of Bitty’s bed. He arranges a few pillows around him, even though he’s learned last night that the baby isn’t really moving much yet. Safe’s safe, though. “There. Good?”

He has the crib set up, and is halfway through the bags when Bitty knocks on the door, before poking his head in. “How’s it going?”

“Baby’s asleep. Again,” Will says, pulling a tiny Falconers jersey out of one of the bags.

Bitty smiles innocently when Will holds it up. Will doesn’t buy it for a second.

They unpack in easy silence for a while, Bitty joining Will on the floor to un- and then refold all the clothes to his satisfaction, arranging them in a complicated pile system Will doesn’t even try to memorise. Bitty bats at him when he sees Will try and fail to hide a grin. “Babies are messy. You better get on top of everything right away, otherwise you’ll be lost in no time.”

“Too late for that,” Will sighs, absently playing with the foot of a pair of tiny snowflake tights. Knowing Bitty, there’s a whole outfit to go with them, too, for Haus Christmas. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“But you’re trying anyway,” Bitty says, bumping their shoulders together. “That’s what counts.”

Will grimaces. “Tell that to the kid when he hates me in a couple of years because I was too selfish to let him be adopted by some nice people who wouldn’t have screwed this whole thing up completely.”

“William Jacob Poindexter!” Bitty is glaring, and it’s so reminiscent of a Disappointed Parent Look that Will flushes, feeling chastised. Bitty grabs Will by the chin, forcing him to look over at him. “Do not run yourself down like this, I won’t have it.”

“Bitty, c’mon,” Will mumbles, embarrassed. He goes to turn his head away, but Bitty doesn’t let go, and raises an expectant eyebrow instead. Will grunts. “Fine, whatever.”

The way Bitty purses his lips, still scowling a little, tells Will they’ll be coming back to this eventually. Chowder has perfect timing, though, and chooses that moment to peek in through the door that’s still slightly ajar. “Do you need help with anything?”

“Want to help me change the baby for the night?” Will asks, getting up, and has to laugh when Chowder nods enthusiastically. “All right, come here. Fair warning, though, it’s going to be pretty gross.”

Chowder waves dismissively. “I have baby cousins, it’s fine. Like, this one time Vivian had some sort of stomach bug, and I swear, for a solid week, her poop looked like that time Wicks threw up after only eating Cheetos and drinking tub juice all weekend.”

They all simultaneously wrinkle their noses at the memory. Bitty’s the first to recover, reaching into yet another unpacked bag, and pulling out a foldable changing pad. “Here.” He hands it to Chowder, who hands it over to Will to spread out on the bed. “It wasn’t on your list, I know, but I thought it would come in handy.”

“At least 80% of the stuff you bought wasn’t on my list,” Will points out as he unclasps the baby’s onesie. “Tell Jack I’ll pay him back for all of it, by the way.”

Bitty’s, “Sure, honey,” is entirely unconvincing, and Will resigns himself to sneaking cash into Jack’s pockets whenever he comes to visit for the foreseeable future. Bitty narrows his eyes at Will as if he can tell what Will’s thinking, making Will look away quickly, biting back a smile.

“Okay,” he says, once he’s got the baby down to his diaper, gesturing from the baby to Chowder. “You want to do the honors?”

Chowder clearly knows what he’s doing, working fast and efficient, and doesn’t lose his cool when the baby, grumpy about being woken up, starts fussing. Will hovers by his shoulder nonetheless, ignoring the knowing, amused looks Bitty keeps levelling at him.

When he’s done, the baby all dressed again, Chowder throws his arms up in the air, waving them around, and cheers quietly. “There,” he says, grinning down at the baby, “that’s better, isn’t it?”

The baby kicks his legs, still making small, distressed sounds that aren’t quite cries. Yet. Chowder rubs his tummy, which seems to help somewhat, but Will can tell it’s not enough.

“He wants you to pick him up. I mean,” he rubs at the back of his neck, mouth quirked sheepishly, “you can. If you still want to.”

Chowder doesn’t need to be told twice. He climbs up on the bed, and scoots back so he’s reclined against the pillows, then carefully lifts the baby up to lie against his chest. He cups the back of the baby’s head with one hand, and his diapered butt with the other, talking quietly, telling the baby, all earnest and serious, “I know,” and “Yeah, being tired is no fun,” when the baby scrunches up his face.

It makes something in Will’s chest loosen, to see one of his best friends so easily accept this huge—and, as much as Will already loves that baby, inconvenient—turn Will’s life has taken over the last 24 hours. It also gives Will the courage needed to say what he’s wanted to tell Chowder for months, now.

“He’s my nephew, technically,” he blurts, and then, before he loses his nerve, continues explaining, “My older sister’s kid. She didn’t want him, because my parents would throw a fucking fit if she came home with a illegitimate kid. Especially a half black one. They’re—shit, C, they’re fucked up, you know? Like, the kind of people who’d make their daughter choose between her kid, and being allowed to come back home again. Or kick out their son for being gay.”

Chowder’s eyes widen in surprise, and he looks distraught when he says, “Dex, oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

Will shrugs, jaw clenched, and averts his eyes. It’s been nearly six months, and he’d known, before doing it, what coming out would mean, what would most likely happen. It had been a conscious, planned decision after years of insecurity and fear, in the hope that it would, somehow, make it easier to be honest with himself about what he is, about who he is. And it had helped, in a lot of ways, but the tiny, dumb, foolish part of Will’s heart that had believed that his family might react differently, might love him anyway, is fucking devastated nonetheless.

Bitty knee-walks across the room, hugging Will from behind. “We love you, hon, you know that, right?” he asks, and Chowder immediately agrees, adding, “We all support Bitty and Jack, and we’ll do the same for you. You’re our team. And our friend.”

Will nods, but doesn’t trust himself to say anything without doing something horrifying. Like bursting into tears. He leans into Bitty instead, lets Bitty tuck him under his chin, and closes his eyes, breathing slow and deep. Bitty starts asking Chowder about his cousins, arms still tight around Will, and neither of them mentions the way Will’s breath hitches every few seconds.

He only disentangles himself from Bitty once the baby’s fallen back asleep to go lay him down in the crib. If having his back turned also gives him the opportunity to discreetly wipe at his eyes, well. He’ll take it.

Chowder makes a quick run to his own room to change into his PJs while Will’s putting the baby down, and Bitty grabs his laptop from his desk, setting it up at the foot of his bed instead, putting on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine with the volume down low. Will gets a pair of sweats from his own bag, before he flops down next to Bitty on the bed. Chowder joins them a moment later, squishing Will between himself and Bitty.

Will gets choked up all over again over the fact that Chowder doesn’t even hesitate before cuddling up to Will, like he always does when they have sleepovers or team movie nights. Then he grunts, effectively distracted, when Bitty presses his icicle feet against his legs. Which is also pretty par for the course.

“So,” Chowder asks, once he has burrito-wrapped himself in one of the blankets, “like, does the baby have a name yet? Because I feel kind of bad just calling him the baby.”

“According to my MooMaw, my parents couldn’t agree on a name until I was almost two months old,” Bitty tisks, laughing a little. “And then they named me Eric Richard Bittle Jr.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Will says immediately. When Bitty and Chowder both look at him quizzically, he elaborates, “Name the baby after someone. My parents named me after my grandfather and my uncle, and there were always expectations that came with that, you know? I don’t want that, for the baby. He should,” he gestures a little helplessly, then shrugs, “just grow up to be himself.”

Chowder nods, thoughtful. “That makes sense.”

“It really does,” Bitty agrees, folding his arms on Will’s chest, and resting his chin on them. “Lord knows I could do without my aunties and uncles and cousins constantly comparing me to my daddy.”

“I thought maybe Theodore?” Will half-asks. “There’s no Theo in my family, no one I know is called Theo, and I kind of like it? Just, like, the sound of it. And I don’t want anything too edgy that’ll embarrass him when he’s older.”

“I like it,” Chowder decides with a nod. “Theodore Poindexter.”

Bitty pokes Will in the side, smiling proudly. “See? You got this. One step at a time.”

“Yeah,” Will says, and can’t help but smile back. “One step at a time.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [still has no idea how U.S. colleges work]

Theo is grumpy and fussy all through getting dressed and fed the next morning, and by the time Will’s sitting on a chair in front of his student advisor’s office, Theo is crying in earnest, loud enough to draw annoyed looks from the other people waiting for their appointments. Will glares back at them while he rocks Theo, because, really, what’s he supposed to do? It’s not like babies have some kind of magical off-switch or something, and, according to all the articles Will’d googled frantically after the first fifteen minutes of Theo’s meltdown, sometimes babies just cry for no real reason.

It’s not like Will enjoys it, either.

Luckily, Marcus arrives early, takes one look at Will holding a screaming infant, and quickly ushers them into his office. Will gladly accepts Marcus’ offer of coffee, settling Theo in the crook of his arm so he has his other hand free to take the cup from Marcus with a grateful, “Thanks.”

Unfortunately, though, Theo is less than happy with his changed position, and redoubles his crying efforts. Will shoots Marcus a apologetic look, but Marcus just smiles, and shrugs in a way that clearly says, “What can you do?”

“So,” Marcus says—loudly, to be heard over Theo’s wailing—once he’s settled in his chair, drumming his fingers against his desk. “This is new.”

“Uh, yeah.” Will gives up on his coffee, and tucks Theo back against his chest, rubbing his back even though that’s done fuck all to calm him down so far. “I didn’t even know he existed until, like, two days ago, so. Yeah. Pretty new.”

Marcus’ eyebrows shoot up at that, and Will, once he realises how that must’ve sounded, quickly says, “No, it’s not—it’s complicated.”

Theo falls asleep halfway through Will explaining the situation, his hot, tear-streaked face tucked into Will’s neck. Will doesn’t notice he’s trailed off, just staring at Theo’s tiny little pursed mouth like some sort of weirdo, until Marcus clears his throat, looking amused when Will’s eyes snap back up to him.

“Ah. Sorry.” Will can feel himself flush, embarrassed even though he’s not entirely sure why. “But, yeah. So, that’s what happened, and now I have Theo.”

Marcus hums thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. Will grows tenser the longer Marcus stays quiet, because he knows what this looks like, okay? He’s a teenager with no parental support, he’s working while studying full time, playing college hockey on top of it, and he was dangerously close to getting put on academic probation—and losing his scholarship because of it—at the beginning of the semester, after all the shit with his family went down.

And now there’s a baby, too.

If Will were in Marcus’ shoes, he’d tell himself to pack his stuff, find a full-time job, and forget the whole college thing, at least for the moment. Or to give up the baby. Hell, Will’s been considering both since the moment he walked out of the hospital with Theo, alternately feeling guilty about even thinking of giving Theo away, and furious that he’s been put in a position where he has to make these kinds of decisions in the first place.

Marcus, to his credit, suggests neither of those things. He doesn’t ask Will if he’s sure, either, but then, the way Will’s clutching Theo against himself is probably pretty telling in and of itself. What Marcus ends up saying is, “I’m guessing you’re looking to move out of the dorms?”

Will lets out a shuddering breath, and nods quickly, relieved. Marcus expression softens into something sympathetic, and, under different circumstances, it would make Will bristle. He thinks he’s just too tired to feel inadequate right now, though. Which is probably for the best.

“The next two years aren’t going to be easy for you,” Marcus says, giving his mouse a shake to wake his computer. Before Will can do something stupid—like tell him that, well, duh—Marcus continues, “But I’ve got a feeling that you know that. And are ready for it, as much as you can be. So I’ll spare you the speech, on the condition that you promise to come talk to me before things get bad again, okay?”

That makes Will wince, because yeah, dodging your advisor’s emails and calls doesn’t actually make any of the stuff you’re scared to talk about go away. Who’d have thought?

“Yeah,” Will says, and then, when Marcus raises a very pointed eyebrow at him, snorts and adds, “I promise.”

Apparently satisfied for the moment, Marcus nods, and turns the computer screen so Will can see it, too. In a stroke of luck that almost seems too good to be true, one of the on-campus apartments for student parents freed up the previous week, and there’s no one currently on the waiting list. Within half an hour, Marcus has made all the necessary calls, Will has signed the transfer forms, and the RA in charge has dropped by to hand over the keys.

Will is still reeling a little when he gets up to leave, happy but somewhat overwhelmed, too. He has a feeling that isn’t going to change anytime soon.

Marcus gets up as well, and is nice enough to help Will get the strap of his bag over his shoulder so Will doesn’t have to shift—and potentially wake—Theo. They shake hands, but Marcus doesn’t let go immediately, pinning Will with an intense look. “We’ve talked about this before, I know, and in the end it’s your choice to make, but I honestly think you’d benefit from talking to someone. About whatever happened to make you slip like that after the summer, and about what’s going on now. Even if it doesn’t end up helping, it can’t hurt to try.”

Will’s first instinct is to brush him off, and he has to actually bite his tongue in order to hold back the words. The last thing he wants to do right now, on top of everything else that’s turning his life upside down, is spill his guts to a complete stranger, even if it’s that stranger's job to sort out human disasters like Will.

But—but it’s not just Will anymore. It’s not just about him anymore, either. And Theo—Theo doesn’t deserve to turn out fucked up—or even more fucked up—because the person who’s supposed to be in charge of him, to take care of him, hasn’t even got his own shit together.

After swallowing hard a couple of times, Will manages to grind out, “Do you have a card or something?”

Annie’s is relatively quiet when Will gets there a few minutes later, what with most people still being in class. He snatches the boot in the back corner after getting himself a coffee, puts down his cup and bag, and then just sort of hovers there, not sure what to do with Theo. He should’ve brought the car seat, probably, but Theo’d sounded like he was being murdered every time Will had tried to lay him down in it earlier, so he’d eventually given up on that.

He’s regretting that now, though, because his arms are starting to get tired. Which is ridiculous, because Theo can’t weigh much more than six pounds, and Will definitely lifts much, much more than that on a regular basis.

When he starts getting weird looks from the baristas, Will sits down carefully, reaching for his bag again. He pulls out the portable changing pad and his hoodie, arranges them on the bench next to him, and then places Theo down into the little nest he’s made. Theo wakes up in the process, face scrunching up unhappily, and flails his fists around, making grumpy noises.

Holding his breath, Will watches Theo frown himself awake, his eyes blinking open slowly. He doesn’t start crying again, though, and Will dares to breathe out again. He puts a hand on Theo’s tummy—once again marvelling at how his hand spans basically the whole of Theo’s upper body—and leaves it there when Theo seems to like the contact, gurgling quietly to himself.

Will types one-handed—something he thinks he has to get used to pretty quickly—messages to his professors about missing the next day or two of classes, then texts a few friends to ask if they’ll let him copy their notes once he gets back. He’s in the middle of trying to compile a list of things he’ll need to buy for Theo—babies need so much shit, it’s unbelievable—when a plate with a double chocolate muffin is set down in front of him.

“Thought you could use the sugar,” Nursey says, sliding into the booth with his own steaming cup. “You look rough, bro.”

“Fuck you,” Will says, around a bite of muffin. He breaks off a piece with a lot of icing on it, and hands it over to Nursey, because he’s a freak and actually likes the stuff. “Thanks, though. Didn’t really get all that much sleep last night.”

They both glance down at Theo, who seems to be dozing, all quiet and peaceful like he hasn’t been screaming his head off for most of the morning. Nursey’s face does something weird, like he isn’t sure what expression to settle on, before he schools it into a tentative smile.

“Yeah, man,” he says, and very gently pokes the palm of Theo’s hand with the tip of a finger. “Can’t imagine you did.”

Theo instinctively closes his fist around Nursey’s finger, and Nursey actually gasps, his eyes growing wide. Will would chirp him for it, but it feels a little hypocritical to do so when he himself gets choked up every time Theo does the same thing to him. “Yeah, dude. I know.”

“Bro,” Nursey whispers, reverent, stroking his thumb over the back of Theo’s hand. “That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever seen.”

When Theo yawns, Nursey corrects himself, “Okay, wow, now that is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen.”

He’s smiling, brightly and more real, now, and Will has to remind himself that, unlike watching his own sleeping baby, staring at his oblivious friend is definitely, 100% creepy. His voice comes out a little rough when he says, “Enjoy him while he’s quiet,” but Nursey is, thankfully, too busy pulling faces at a blinking Theo to notice.

After tugging Nursey’s tea a little more towards the middle of the table—it’s Nursey, and Annie’s has been witness to more than enough of his accidents already—Will goes back to his list, finishing up quickly while he’s got Nursey to entertain Theo.

Once he’s satisfied that he’s written down everything, and double-checked with several parenting websites just to make sure, Will leans back in his seat, oddly exhausted. Theo is looking like he’s thinking about getting fussy, so Will digs one of the bottles with his formula out of the bag, giving it a quick shake.

He picks up Theo, who latches onto the nipple enthusiastically, then frowns when Will pulls the bottle back a little to make him slow down.

Nursey watches for a couple of minutes, looking fascinated, before glancing down at Will’s phone. Will rolls his eyes, holding back an unwilling smile when Nursey starts grinning. “Target run?”

“Lardo has banned you from going on Target runs,” Will reminds him, and does laugh at the affronted huff Nursey blows out. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

“Come on,” Nursey wheedles, pouting exaggeratedly at Will, “we’re a great team, it’ll go so much faster if I help. Don’t even,” he warns, pointing a finger at Will when Will opens his mouth to ask what kind of help falling into a shelf full of wine glasses will be, “that was one time.”

Will pretends to consider, shifting Theo to lie against his shoulder when he’s done with his bottle. Nursey narrows his eyes at him, and Will snorts, rolling his eyes again. “Sure, yeah. If buying baby supplies is what you want to spend your afternoon doing, be my guest.”

Nursey cheers, wiggling in his seat in a bad, off-ice version of his goal celly like the total dork he is. Will lets him for a moment, then says, “But I’m driving. Since, you know, I actually want Theo to reach his second week of life and all.”

“Oh,” Nursey says, drawn out, and ducks down to be on eye-level with Theo. “Did you hear that, tiny bro? Your dad thinks he’s funny, but he’s really not.”

Dad.

It’s one word, but it’s enough to nearly make Will choke on nothing at all, because—because he is Theo’s dad, for all intents and purposes, at least on paper. And it’s not like he hadn’t known, objectively, but it’s something entirely different to hear someone else say it, out loud.

It’s—it’s scary, really fucking scary, but—but it’s also really fucking awesome.

Will's a dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy almost new year, everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works), or come over and say hi on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com).


End file.
